


Riddle Me This

by kelex



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, riddles ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:23:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12616844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: Oswald crafts a riddle for Edward after Edward misses their dinner date.





	Riddle Me This

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Frustrated Cobblepot Gifset](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/334620) by cobblpot @ tumblr. 



> @granpappy-winchester had the world's most hilarious set of tags attached to [this post](http://crazyquilt.tumblr.com/post/167047786360/cobblpot-%EF%BE%9F%EF%BE%9B%EF%BE%9F-oswald-cobblepot-aka-the) that I had to do something about it. 
> 
> For those who don't want to follow the external link, the tags follow the fic

_I make fools of wise men, yet wise men seek me out. I am the prize bought with a ring, but I can be had for a smile. Everyone has me, but in my truest form, only the lucky win me. Unchangeable and yet fragile, I can be rekindled in a heartbeat and destroyed just as quickly. I'm found in a thousand words but in the end, only three matter. Who are we?_

Oswald examined the words he'd written on the page. They felt incredibly contrived, the answer incredibly obvious. The page itself was crumpled and dingy; he had written, scratched out, re-worded and scribbled in the margins until he'd come up with something that he thought might be worthy of Ed's love of riddles. Of course, he'd probably have it solved before he even finished reading the thing. But at the moment, that didn't matter. 

He had to do *something.* He'd meant to tell Edward in person, over a lovely dinner to which Edward was supposed to have brought the wine. Instead, Edward had stood Oswald up over some... blonde bimbo that was supposed to be the spitting image of his first girlfriend and they were *in love* already. 

It had taken all of Oswald's good breeding and every bit of grip on his temper not to call bullshit that instant, and he'd striven to be as positive as he could be while choking on a hot green jealousy. 

That's when he'd decided on a riddle. Edward had been out on a date with Isabella, and he hoped that she dropped dead very soon. But it had also given him an idea, and so he'd paced his little office, working and reworking and rewriting until he was somewhat happy with what he'd produced. 

It took no time at all to type it up, and once it was printed, Oswald stuck it in an envelope, carefully calligraphed Ed's name on the outside of the envelope, and leaned it on Ed's desk, where he would be sure to see it. 

\---

Coming into his office in the morning, Ed was in such a good mood he was almost whistling. He and Isabella had stayed up until nearly three, long after the rest of the house had gone to sleep. They sat together by the fireplace--hello. Ed's attention was instantly snagged by the envelope on his desk with the fancy calligraphy. He didn't recognize the calligraphy, but tore the envelope open with eagerness. 

A single sheet of paper fell out, and he read the printed lines carefully, and at the bottom of the page was a handwritten note. _Enjoy the riddle, Ed. Oswald._

Of course his best friend would give him a riddle. His smile widened further as he re-read the puzzling words, and carried it up to his bedroom, intending on a shower and a change of clothes before he came back down.

It didn't work out that way.

\---

Oswald was cranky all day; he'd known exactly when Ed had gotten back in and picked up the envelope on his desk, and had expected him shortly thereafter. Instead, there was no Ed anywhere to be seen.

\---

Ed dragged his fingers through his hair in frustration. He was doing his best to figure this out, but there were just too many things it could be! _I make fools of wise men, but wise men seek me out._ Knowledge, of course. Knowledge made fools of every man, but every man seeks more. _The prize bought with a ring, but had with a smile_ had to be a carnival animal. A ring on a bottle won the prize, and it was given and received with a smile. 

But neither of those made sense together! He scribbled on the back of an envelope, trying to make connections that united knowledge and carnival animals. 

Money was the next guess; money made fools of wise men, and everyone wanted more money. He couldn't quite figure out the connection between being won by a ring, except for the idea that money bought the ring, and rings won smiles from their recipients. Unchangeable and fragile, that was luck of course, and luck brought money. And the three words? Here's your paycheck!

"No!" Ed let out a frustrated grunt and threw the envelope in the garbage. Of course it wasn't money. 

It wasn't knowledge. It wasn't money. It wasn't a carnival boardwalk, which was his current favorite. 

He yanked at his tie, loosening the knot as he paced the length of the room. He stripped his jacket off, throwing it on the bed, and made sure the door to the bedroom was locked. He was not going to allow a single interruption until he'd decoded the riddle. 

\---

Oswald sent Olga up to Ed's room with dinner. She knocked gingerly on the door. "Mr. Nygma?"

"I said no interruptions!" Ed shouted, looking up at the door. His hair was standing on end from the number of times he'd ruffled it with his fingers, seeking inspiration. His glasses and tie were both askew, his vest was hanging open, and the first buttons on his shirt were undone.

"Mr. Oswald asked me to bring you dinner," she called out.

"Leave it! I'll get it later!" was Ed's distracted answer, and his eyes were still glued to the pages. He had a list of choice answers to the riddle, but nothing hit him as the ultimate answer quite yet. 

"Yes, sir." Olga shrugged and left the tray on the floor in front of Ed's locked door. She did not want to explain to Mr. Oswald, and so decided not to say anything.

\---

It was one-thirty in the morning, and Oswald was jerked out of a restless sleep by the slam of his bedroom door. "What the--" 

Ed was standing in the doorway, looking thoroughly wild. "Labradors. Thoroughbred Labrador Retrievers." 

Oswald blinked rapidly, trying to take it in. Ed's hair was standing up wildly, like it'd been struck by lighting. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, which he had _never_ seen Ed do before. His vest was hanging all the way open, and Ed's tie was almost completely undone. His glasses were almost falling off his face, but he was beaming like he'd solved the question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. "What are you talking about, Ed?"

"I solved it." Ed thrust out the riddle. "Thoroughbred Labrador Retrievers. Wise men seek them, but are made a fool by? Dogs. People love dogs, but they act like idiots. A prize won with a ring? Please, every dog plays fetch." Every word he spoke was getting faster and faster as he got cranked up. "And it clearly has to be thoroughbred, because they're the purest form, and only the lucky people get pureblood dogs. The rest of them get mongrels. You can kick a dog, but it comes right back, licking your hand and trying to figure out what it did wrong--rekindled in a heartbeat and destroyed just as quickly. Three words? _Come here, boy!_ " Ed dropped the solved riddle into Oswald's lap. "I solved it."

"Uh, no. No, you didn't." Oswald scrubbed his hands over his eyes. "It's not thoroughbred Labrador Retrievers."

"Cocker spaniels? Irish Setters?"

"It's not a dog, Ed!" If he was going to deal with this, Oswald was going to need a drink. He got out of bed and walked to the sideboard, and poured himself a very large sherry. Not his favorite, but it'd get him through the night. 

"Okay!" Ed clapped his hands and whirled in place, thrusting one arm out as if holding an invisible sword pointed at Oswald. "If it's not thoroughbred Labrador Retrievers, it's a circus!"

"A... circus?" Oswald thumped the glass down on the wood counter and looked at Ed in shock. "Really?"

"Yes! Even a grown man will laugh at a clown, even though he knows better. Circuses have games, including ring tosses, where you win a prize, and you get a smile when you give the prize away. And the purest? Ringling Brothers. The largest circus, most famous, and just shuttered itself. So they're definitely the one the few get to see." Which made no sense, because Ringling was known by _literally everyone in the universe._ "Suspense and fear for the acts, a fake fall, and then a successful landing? rekindled in a heartbeat and destroyed just as quickly. Three words? The big top!" Ed brandished his imaginary sword in a riposte.

"No, Ed. Not a circus." Oswald finished the sherry in two swallows. 

"Money?" Ed asked questioningly, and then shook his head. "No, of course it's not money." 

"Correct. It is not money."

Ed's hopeful look faded when Oswald agreed that it wasn't money. "Just a minute." He scratched in his vest pockets, then his pants pockets, for the scrap of paper where he'd put his other logical thoughts.

Oswald stalked across the bedroom, then stopped halfway. "Why... why is there half a chicken leg and a piece of toast stuck to your shoe?"

"Oh, that. I may have stepped in the tray Olga left by the door," he confessed distractedly. 

"Uh huh." He just collapsed back onto the bed as soon as he got to it, chin thumping down on his chest as he listened to Ed reel off more guesses. 

After five minutes of listening to why it just absolutely had to be a stuffed animal, Oswald snapped. He launched himself at Ed, grabbing the ends of his loosened tie and yanking him forward. 

Ed was caught by surprise, his babble cut off mid-stream as Oswald dragged him down so that they were nose to nose. "Yes, Oswald?"

"I love you. The answer is, I love you, you absolute mouth-breathing _idiot!_ " Oswald had the satisfaction of shouting it loudly and watching Ed blink rapidly. He let go of Ed's tie with disgust, and shoved him aside. "Olga!" he bellowed, stepping carefully around the mess Ed had tracked into the bedroom. "Olga! I want those plum dumplings from dinner! With ice cream!"

Ed gaped at Oswald as he left the room, still shouting orders to Olga, who was probably ignoring him. His mouth actually dropped, jaw unhinged as he gasped theatrically. He picked up the riddle where it had fallen from Oswald's grasp, and read it over again. 

_I make fools of wise men, yet wise men seek me out. I am the prize bought with a ring, but I can be had for a smile. Everyone has me, but in my truest form, only the lucky win me. Unchangeable and yet fragile, I can be rekindled in a heartbeat and destroyed just as quickly. I'm found in a thousand words but in the end, only three matter. Who are we?_

Oh.

Oh. Oh.

Oh oh oh oh _OH_.

The paper crumpled even more as Ed pressed it to his chest, staring at the empty space where Oswald had been standing. Comprehension dawned painfully, tightening his chest and making it hard for him to breathe. _His_ Oswald was in love with him? His best friend Oswald, his mentor Oswald, the mayor of Gotham City, was in love with him? Oswald Cobblepot in love with Edward Nygma?

The more he thought it, the more he said it to himself, the less he could believe it. Surely not, surely he meant it platonically, the love of friendship. 

_Enjoy the riddle, Ed._

Oh. 

OH.

Ed sprinted out of Oswald's bedroom, skidding down the staircase and pulling up short before walking calmly--and breathlessly--into the kitchen. 

Oswald was perched on a chair by the serving board, shoveling in spoonfuls of ice cream on top of sugar-dusted pastry. Olga was rattling in the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of heavy cream and pouring it in the blender with a slab of ice cream and two heaping spoons of--"Is that peanut butter?"

Oswald ignored the question, so Olga answered. "Mister Oswald wanted a milkshake." 

"Huh." Ed came into the kitchen and sat down beside Oswald. Oswald offered him a clean spoon and grudgingly turned the plate so that Ed could get to the triple scoop of ice cream. "Thank you, Oswald."

A disgusted noise that could have been anything from "You're welcome" to "Fuck you" was the only response Oswald gave. 

The roar of the blender was loud enough to drown out conversation, so Ed concentrated on the ice cream. A few minutes later, Olga turned the blender off, and set the pitcher in front of Oswald, with two large straws sticking out of it. 

"Thank you, Olga. You can go back to sleep now."

"I do dishes in the morning, Mister Oswald. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Oswald picked up the blender pitcher and sucked hard at the straw. He offered it to Ed, who took the second straw and drew a big mouthful of peanut butter milkshake. 

Oswald waited a minute, and then went back to his straw so they were both drinking at the same time. Like a couple of 1950s kids at the soda shop, sharing a malted! Disgusted with himself, Oswald let the straw fall back into the pitcher and went back to attacking the half dozen dumplings Olga had warmed up for him. 

"It was a very good riddle," Ed finally ventured.

"I will stab you with a fork if you don't shut up," Oswald threatened without looking at Ed. "I am going to finish my snack and then I'm going to bed."

"Roger-dokie," Ed answered, trying to get Oswald to smile. 

"Ed! I'm trying to hold a grudge here, you idiot." Oswald stabbed with his fork, but he speared nothing more than a plum from the dumpling. 

"They can be harbored, but few hold water. You can nurse them, but only by holding them against someone else. You can carry them, but not with your arms. You can bury them, but not in the earth," Ed offered. "And they'll end up poisoning you, when you expect them to kill someone else."

Oswald actually pointed his fork at Ed. "Are you really trying to riddle your way out of this?" It hovered over Ed's hand, but eventually Oswald returned it to the table and patted his mouth with a napkin. "I just told you I love you, and you are asking me riddles about holding grudges!"

"Yes." Ed shrugged it off, and took another drink out of the pitcher. "I did not expect that, Oswald. I had never even considered that you might."

"Then you're literally the only person in Gotham City who hasn't." Oswald pointed to the newspaper recycling. "Page Six gossip column. Third paragraph, Tuesday."

Ed dug through the bin until he found the appropriate page. 

_Gotham Mayor Oswald Cobblepot is certainly igniting a rash of rumors regarding his Chief of Staff. A source close to Cobblepot reports that the mayor has been trying unsuccessfully to woo Mr. Nygma for weeks, and the public is beginning to notice. One of Gotham's more cheeky betting parlors is currently laying odds against the mayor._

"Huh." Ed snapped the paper closed, and put it back in the recycling bin exactly where he'd found it, which only made Oswald roll his eyes even more. "Well, I think we need to start out by finding out which establishment is making these odds, and deliver a firebomb to their premises."

Oswald had to laugh. It was either laugh or stab. "You are missing the point, Ed."

"I am?" Ed looked earnestly at Oswald. "And what is the point, exactly?"

Oswald heaved a sigh. "You know what? Forget it. Just forget all about it. I'm certainly going to try." He sucked the blender pitcher dry, and picked up his plate of dumplings, intending to finish them in bed.

"Oswald, wait." Ed caught his arm before he could leave. "I don't understand."

"Well, when you do, let me know." Oswald shook Ed's hand off, and swept out of the kitchen. 

Edward stared at Oswald's retreating form, then looked at the empty blender pitcher. Oswald didn't really like peanut butter like Ed himself did--

oh.

OH.

Yes. Oswald was right. He was an absolute blithering moron.

\---

In the morning, there was an envelope taped to Oswald's bathroom mirror. _Read Me_ had been stenciled on the front, and Oswald tore it off with a huff of disgust. But he opened it anyway. 

There were only two lines.

_I start with an I and end with a you. What am I?_

_I'm sorry. I love you._

There wasn't a signature, but there didn't have to be. 

There was a second sheet behind the first. It was handwritten, and Oswald recognized the hand immediately.

_Oswald, I'm sorry. I should have realized the answer right away, but I couldn't imagine it. You deserve better. I'm not going to resign, but if you want to fire me, I'll understand. I have to take care of something this morning but if you'd like to have dinner tonight, there's something I'd like to tell you. I'll bring the wine this time. Ed._

Oswald folded both sheets back up and tucked them back into their envelope. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he was smiling.

End

**Author's Note:**

> #oswald cobblepot aka the penguin#nygmobblepot#oswald is such a dork#and ed is such a dork#they were made for each other#*sends my angry tears to the gotham writers*#anywhoozle#an au where oswald gets fed up with himself#and in a moment of manic anxiety decides to write a riddle for ed and leaves it on ed's desk#and ed is high off his date with isabella when he finds the riddle#and just#it takes him the entire ENTIRE day to figure it out#and thats because he just#cant#quite#comprehend that HIS oswald loves him???#so he comes up with all these convoluted answers to the riddle#and by the morning when he sees oswald again -- because he definitely blockaded himself in a room alone to solve this master riddle#he hasnt slept#hes disheveled#and he's manic too#and so he sort of just gets in oswald's face and lists his answers in that theatrical way that he does things#and oswald is growing more and more frustrated and 'wtf ed???' at this whole show#and by the time ed is explaining why thoroughbred golden retrievers are the answer OF COURSE oswald is just. so. done.#and he gets up from his chair and grabs ed by his tie#and hisses 'i love you that's the answer you gigantic mouth breathing idiot'#and ed does the 'fish out of water' thing with his mouth#and stares after oswald who stamps his way out of the office yelling for olga (because baby bird is gonna eat every one of his feelings)#and ed is alone in his office and he rereads the riddle#and he says 'oh' to himself clutching the paper to his chest 'oh oh oh oh oh


End file.
